


Heart of Gold

by FangirlingUntilIdie



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Happy Ending, I promise, M/M, Slow Burn, Thorin is such a dork, angst fest, florist!Bilbo, goldsmith!Thorin, set in Cheshire, tags will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlingUntilIdie/pseuds/FangirlingUntilIdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Durin is married to his work. That is, until one day a fateful meeting turns his world upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The rain had just turned into a thunderstorm as Thorin locked the store and made for the car. He ran, but he was drenched nonetheless when he finally sat behind the wheel. As if his day hadn't already been bad enough. Marvellous.  
He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. As he drove through the evening traffic he reflected on his day. 

It had all started relatively well when his sister had called him and cancelled his weekly nephew-sitting duty, apparently they were off to visit relatives in Dublin spontaneously. Something about Gloín and his wife expecting their first child.   
Of course Fíli and Kíli had been thrilled, but other than his sister, Thorin couldn't just leave the darn country on short notice because some distant cousin of theirs was having a baby. He wasn't even sure if they were related at all. 

Having two children around was more than enough for him sometimes. Especially when they came visiting the store. It's not that he didn't adore the two, he did, but his workshop in the centre of Chester doesn't exactly count as a child-safe environment. 

He had enjoyed a relaxed morning, peacefully working on orders that were due at the weekend, but as peaceful mornings have it, something was off, and Thorin had half anticipated trouble when the door flew open during lunch break and a rather short, red-faced woman stormed into the shop. She had rung the bell on the counter several times before Thorin had made it to the front of the shop and was confronted with a sour mien and an order receipt slammed onto the counter.   
“What's your excuse?” she had asked. As if entering his shop during lunch hadn't been enough, this little lady had had the guts to snarl at him without any greeting whatsoever. 

“Good morning to you, too.” 

Okay, maybe his sarcastic tone had been a little over the top, but what did he care, this was his shop and anybody who came storming inside and treated him with as little respect as this woman had, deserved punishment. And punishment she received, as Thorin made himself as tall as possible, strong arms propped onto the counter, his hands dirty from work, his hair in a messy bun, sporting his most menacing glare. Thinking about it now, Thorin had to suppress giggling at the woman's reaction.   
She literally shrunk before his eyes, all anger leaving her in an instant. 

“I – uh..” 

Thorin cocked one eyebrow, eyeing the receipt she had slammed on the counter. It was indeed a receipt from his shop, and the date proved that it was due yesterday, so this fuming customer had indeed reason to be upset. He was going to kill Frerin. 

It had taken him some time so calm the woman down, Sackville-Baggins was her name, he recalled, and after some replanning scheduled her order to be ready by the morrow. She had left the shop muttering to herself, still visibly angry, but happy to get away with her life. 

there was anything that Thorin downright hated, it was having to finish something his brother had started. Their styles were so distinctly different, each work a masterpiece, and they both had their signatures hewn into the metal they were forging.   
While Frerin was more one for traditional crafting, Thorin was more experimental. He had crafted tiaras, necklaces, rings, beads, earrings, piercings, and they were all unique. Some were equipped with beautiful engravings in ancient languages, or had exquisite metals forged into submission by his skilled hands, others preferred to wear gems and stones. Whatever the customer's preference, Thorin would take their idea and forge something so beautiful, so breathtaking that it sometimes hurt to part with the outcome.  
He could bury himself in work for days on end, which sometimes resulted in Dís force-feeding him take-out from the curry place around the corner. 

After the unpleasant encounter during lunch Thorin decided to take a look at what his brother had come up with so far. The instructions on the receipt weren't exactly specific:

Bracelet. Gold. Floral. Male.

Two minutes later and he was downright panicking. How the hell was he supposed to be finishing this in just one day, with all the other orders waiting as well? His brother hadn't done much, except writing down all the measurements and choosing a basic layout. What was even worse, the receipt strictly said that the bracelet was to me made by Frerin Durin, who was unavailable.   
Too bad. 

A brief brainstorming later and Thorin was on the phone, explaining to several enraged customers that their orders would not be ready on Friday, but they could be collected first thing Monday, of course he would give them a discount, no this will not be happening again, have a good day.   
How he hated having to talk to customers. That was usually Frerin's part, but he was in bloody Ireland, probably getting drunk with his cousins, all the while Thorin was stuck in Chester, fixing his brother's mess. 

To be fair, he had enjoyed working on the bracelet. The good thing about vague instructions was that Thorin could really live up to his imagination, the only restriction being the price the customer was willing to pay. 

Concerning that, he was rather lucky that Erebor Goldmines had a rather good reputation, being in the family for centuries now, and people were willing to pay a pretty price for anything that came from the hands of the Durin brothers. 

Floral shapes had always been Thorin's favourite, but of course he would never admit that to anyone. Especially not his sister Dís, who gladly took any chance she got to embarrass her older brother. 

Taking all this into account, it was no surprise that Thorin finished the bracelet two and a half hours after closing time, already regretting that he was going to have to give it away so soon, especially since the lady who had issued the order was so utterly unlike the bracelet he had come up with. Really, it was outstanding, one of his best ever, if he may say so.   
The basic outlines were given by his brother, who had chosen to go a little out of his way and made it look like vines were raking around the wrist and upwards.  
In order to make it work, Thorin coated the frame with a special gold, and then added tiny leafs to the vines which he then engraved to look like actual leafs.   
The bracelet was beautiful as it was, but it really came to life through dozens of tiny Azurites embedded in the vines. Truly, it was magnificent, and Thorin was terribly proud of himself. 

 

Thinking back on it later, Thorin realized that it was sheer chance that made him drive through Burton on his way home. Usually he would've stayed on the A540, which lead straight home from Chester to Neston, but something made him turn left and take the slightly slower, definitely more beautiful way trough Burton, crossing Ness Gardens and Little Neston before coming home at last.   
He could blame it on the weather, or on his own distractedness, or on karma, but whoever was to blame, it didn't change the facts. 

The facts were these: Thorin drove on Neston Road a lot faster than allowed, and taking the rain into account, a lot faster than any sensible human being would have. Had his brother not messed up his order, he probably would have missed the rain and driven straight home, not turning onto Neston Road, and he never would have driven past Ness Gardens.   
Now, if it hadn't been for the bad weather, one Bilbo Baggins wouldn't have had to return to work to check on the greenhouses, because when the wind was that bad, it was better to be safe than sorry. He had learned that from experience.   
Usually he would park on the left side of the road, but given the climatic circumstances it was safer to park on the right side of the road, where the ground was paved and not as muddy as on the left side.   
And had one Lobelia Sackville-Baggins not checked on her order at Erebor Goldmines that very day Thorin Durin would have been in a considerably better mood, and would most certainly have paid more attention to the road ahead of him. 

As it was, he did not, and so it happened that one the night on the seventeenth September Thorin Durin hit Bilbo Baggins with his car as he was crossing the road to check on the greenhouses. 

**********

It took the ambulance a good while to get to the site of the accident. Thorin didn't even have an umbrella to keep the bleeding man from soaking through and possibly getting a lung infection, additional to several broken bones and a bad cut on his forehead.   
He was lucky he made it out alive, really, considering that Thorin had hit him on full speed. He wasn't allowed to accompany him to hospital, but he had to leave his personal details so that he could be reached once the survival of Mr. Baggins was assured. 

Thorin didn't sleep that night, anxiously waiting beside the phone, waiting for news of this Mister Baggins. Of course he also called Dís, briefly describing the accident, and she promised to come home with the next available fly, he mustn't worry about picking her up from Manchester airport, she was going to arrange everything. So he spent his whole night sitting beside the phone, shivering, still shaken by the sight he had had to endure earlier.   
It seemed as if there had been blood everywhere, but of course the rain had made everything look worse than it was, probably, at least that was what Thorin told himself.   
What was worst about this unfortunate situation was that it was utterly and completely Thorin's own fault, it had been his car that hit this innocent man who just wanted to check on the greenhouses. 

What would become of the greenhouses if the man died at his hands, who would take care of them?   
Thorin would not only be responsible for the death of one gardener but all of his plants as well. 

That thought was unbearable, and he quickly dismissed it. Worrying about it wouldn't make the phone ring earlier. But he couldn't get himself to get up and do something, maybe eat dinner, or go to bed. 

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he opened his eyes again he was buried under one too many blankets. Dís must have let herself in then. He stretched his tense muscles, and groaned as he noticed how stiff his neck was. He was definitely getting too old to be sleeping on the couch. 

“Morning!” he called.  
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens, finally. You missed a call, it was the hospital.” Dís emerged into the room with two mugs of tea, setting one in front of Thorin, then sitting down opposite of him.   
“Don't worry, he's all right. Ish. As all right as is possible, anyway.” she said, smirking, after taking in the shocked expression on her brother's sleepy face. She sipped at her tea, patiently waiting for her brother to catch up on the information she just offered.   
“What about the boys?”   
“They're perfectly happy to be staying with their uncle for tonight. Besides, I can't leave my baby brother alone in this situation, can I?”  
“I'm older than you.”  
“Only on the paper.” 

Thorin grumbled something below his breath and sat up straight to take a sip of his tea. They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Dís asked the inevitable.  
“So why did you run over this poor man?”   
“You don't really wanna know.”   
“Oh, but I do. And you'll need to tell the police later, anyway, so consider this dress rehearsal.”   
Dís mentioning his brief acting career earned her a murderous stare, but Thorin recalled the day anyway, deliberately leaving out this detail or that, and upon conclusion buried his face in his mug so he wouldn't have to look at his sister.   
“My dear brother, you are in so much trouble.”  
“Yeah, no shit.”   
“I mean it. Come on, let's get you dressed. We should go checking on that poor man who fell victim to your hatred over rude customers.”   
“Shut up.” 

*********

“Maybe you should let me drive. You're still pretty shaken up from yesterday, and it's still dark.”  
“No way.”   
“Thorin Durin.” 

“Okay.”

**********

They pulled up at the hospital half an hour later, still being on the streets early enough to avoid any traffic.   
The young man at the front desk was kind enough to give them the directions, and assured them that he would send the officials in shortly after them. There was something about hospitals that made Thorin deeply uncomfortable, but his sister dragged him after her mercilessly.   
They arrived at Mr. Baggins' room far too quickly, and the nurse was downright eager to inform the patient about his visitors, and if they may come in, why of course they may.   
Thorin was ushered inside by his sister, who seemed to enjoy his nervousness a great deal. He didn't want to be here. As must as he cared about this man's well-being, having to meet him face-to-face was a tad too much for him that morning.

“Good morning.” They were greeted by a cheerful voice, and at that sound, Thorin made for the en suite bathroom and emptied his stomach into the loo.   
It took him longer than he'd like to admit for his stomach to settle down, and even as he re-emerged from the bathroom he still felt a little shaky, and was rather pale.   
The small room was painfully bright thanks to the hospital lamps. Dís had settled in next to the bed, keeping up polite small talk. Upon hearing him enter the room, Dís turned around and introduced him.

“Meet my brother, Thorin. He looks meaner than he is.”  
“Oi.”

“Nice to meet you, Thorin. I have heard so much about you. My name is Bilbo. I believe we can skip the formalities, I did have a close encounter with your bumper, after all.”

This was wrong in so many ways. Why was he being so nice? He could have been killed, would be dead by now, had he not had as much luck. And it would have been Thorin's fault, all of this was his doing. 

Thorin eyed Bilbo warily. Lying in the hospital bed, he seemed to be rather short, shorter than Thorin anyway. He grinned at Thorin, but as calming as it was meant to be, Thorin shuddered at his sight. His forehead, where Thorin knew a deep cut would be, was bandaged, but it didn't hide the purple bruise that stretched all the way from his right eye over his cheek bones down to his jaw. His hair lay in messy russet curls atop of his head. His left arm, as well as his left leg, were wrapped in casts, and he wore mint green scrubs.   
And he was handsome, disgustingly handsome. 

“I am so sorry.” he burst out, leaning on the wall for support. His vision was getting dizzy.   
“Thorin, breathe.”   
“I am, I am breathing -” 

Then, everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azurite – Arc of Azurite energy bestows wisdom and truth to Virgo. This gemstone also helps to control excessive desire, improve the romantic and spiritual relationships that are more harmonious with nature.


	2. Chapter 2

He opened his eyes to sudden brightness, so bright that he had to squeeze them shut immediately after. Through closed lashes Thorin tried to take in as much of his surroundings as possible.  
He was lying in a bed, but it was not his bed. He was not at home, and he was not alone. At least two more people were in the room with him, chatting quietly, presumably trying not to wake him.  
He turned to his side, and groaned in pain. 

“Who stuck a bloody needle in my arm?” he grunted.  
“The doctor did, after you swooned at the sight of Bilbo.”

Maybe he should have just pretended to be asleep for a while longer. 

“I did not swoon.”

Thorin opened his eyes and looked around him. He was in the same room as before, lying in the bed next to Bilbo's. And indeed, he was on the drip. Great. Just what he needed. He made an effort to sit up and pull the needle out of his arm, but Dís was quick to react and stopped him in his tracks. Thorin gave up and made a statement by letting himself fall back against the pillows.

“If you behave you'll be out in no time. I agreed to drive Bilbo home, it's on the way. I'm sure you don't mind.”  
“He gets to leave so soon?”

“Yes, I do. There's not much more the doctors can do for me here, and I would much rather lie around at home if I must.”  
Of course, Thorin had to forget that he was still in the room. How embarrassing. Hopefully he wouldn't notice the blush that crept its way up his neck. 

“So, what.. I mean, how much - ?”  
“How much damage you caused? Well, I'd say you were quite successful. See how my left side is almost completely covered in casts? My thigh bone is broken, my ankle sprained, the shoulder is dislocated and one or two ribs are broken. Nothing that won't heal, I'll be up and about in no time.”

Thorin thought he might lose consciousness again. It would have been preferable to the feeling of dread setting deep in his stomach, along with shame and something else entirely, warm and shy and completely uncalled-for.  
He made a point of gulping down the glass of water that Dís had set on his night stand, trying to drown those feelings. He knew all too well where this would lead. Maybe, if he ignored his feelings, they would subside as fast as they had appeared. It was worth a try.

**********

They had to wait yet another two hours before being dismissed. Thorin reluctantly answered all the question the police asked him, and before they knew it Bilbo was seated in a wheelchair, and Thorin nobly offered to push him.  
He also nobly ignored the side-way glance that Dís didn't even try to hide. 

Thorin was only mildly disappointed when he didn't get to sit in the front seat, but instead had to accommodate with what little place was left behind Dís in the driver's seat. 

“How do you reckon is Bilbo going to squeeze into the small space you call a back row?”  
She was right, of course, she always was, but it pissed him off big time, having to sit in the back row in his own car. As if that had not been enough humiliation for one day, he was also forced to share what little space he had for himself with the wheelchair that wouldn't fit in his trunk.

“This is ridiculous.” he had muttered, and indeed, he looked out of space, crammed up, angled uncomfortably around the wheelchair, strands of his hair falling out of his ponytail. 

And on top of all that, Dís and Bilbo seemed to get along splendidly. They were talking about her sons, and Bilbo mentioned that he, too, had a kid at home. 

Of course he had. A nice guy like him wouldn't be alone, of course not. Married, probably. But he couldn't remember him wearing a ring. So maybe it was hers, but they were bringing it up together? Whichever way, it dawned upon Thorin in that second that Bilbo was off the market, and he couldn't say that it didn't bother him. 

 

He noticed that Dís had turned into the small road he had chosen yesterday. Suddenly the nervousness from earlier was back. He remembered all too well how suddenly, through all the rain, a man was walking across the street, too close for him to brake in time. He had screamed, he remembered now, trying to somehow not hit him with his car. It had been for naught in the end, since he still hit Bilbo on full speed. That Bilbo had survived, and with so little damage done, was a gift from the Valar.  
What made his remorse even worse was the fact that Bilbo didn't seem to hate him one bit. He had forgiven him instantly, before even talking to him. How one could be so optimistic was a miracle to Thorin.

Thorin was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice them turning left once again, onto a small road that seemed to be leading nowhere. But sure enough, after two minutes or so, a gate appeared, and behind that gate a colourful garden awaited them. From where he was sitting in the car Thorin could make out beautiful flower beds, a vegetable garden, and in the centre of it all, a large oak tree. Behind the tree Thorin could see a house built of stone. The front facing the garden was completely made of glass, a warm light emitting from inside. It stood upon a small hill, and next to the wooden terrace he could make out a spring that turned into a little stream which flowed through the garden in serpentines before pouring into a pond. It was breathtakingly beautiful.  
The house fit perfectly into this setting. It was a typical house for this area, and it had a homely touch to it. Maybe it was the vines that raked their way up the façade, or maybe it was the smoke that rose from the chimney and quickly blended in with the cloudy sky above.

“Welcome to Bag End.” Bilbo announced ceremonially.  
Dís parked in front of the house, and Thorin jumped out of the car, rushing to help Bilbo into his wheelchair. The task proved to be more difficult than Thorin had anticipated, so in the end it was Dís who reassembled the wheelchair and held it in place while Thorin carefully helped Bilbo to lift himself out of the car and into the wheelchair. 

He gasped once, and Thorin quickly let go of him, afraid of hurting him.  
“No, it's all right, really.” Bilbo tried to soothe him. Somehow he had the ability to sense when Thorin was about to over think and worry too much. But still, Thorin kept himself more distant after the incident. 

Pulling the wheelchair up the stairs to the front door was easier than it had looked, and together Dís and Thorin hauled Bilbo up in no time.  
“There's a spare key in the flowerpot over there.” he instructed.  
“Seriously? You keep the key out in the open like this?”  
“Well, why wouldn't I? Nobody ever drives out this far, and if they do it's because I invited them.” 

Thorin opened the front door and was met with a mop of dark curls, that rushed towards him and clung to his legs.  
“Um..” He stood in the door case, completely in shock, with a look of desperation on his face. Dís couldn't hide her laughter behind the cough she was faking.  
The mop of hair turned it's head up, and the broad smile quickly dissolved, and was replaced by fear.  
“You're not Bilbo.” the boy stated. He must've been around Kíli's age.  
“I'm right here, Frodo.” 

The broad smile from before lit his face up once again upon hearing Bilbo's voice. He let go of Thorin's leg and ran towards him. Concern shadowed on his young face, and he stood still before Bilbo, worrying his index finger between his lips. His eyes were wide with curiosity. 

“Don't you worry, my lad. I'm quite all right. Thorin here and his sister Dís helped me.” He pointed to each of them while he introduced them to the small boy.  
“Did they do this to you?”  
Thorin's stomach felt like it was about to empty itself once again.  
“No, like I said, they helped me.”  
“So, is that why Samwise got to stay the night? Because you had that accident?”  
“Indeed it is. But I do hope Hamfast came here with him.”

Frodo's curious eyes took in the scene before him. Bilbo was sat in his wheelchair, his left leg extended because of the cast. The bandage was still around his head, his face was half-blue, and he was in the company of one very big, very mean looking man and one very big, very nice looking woman. It was a little much for the poor boy, and he quickly retreated into the safety of the house.  
“Mr. Hamfast! Bilbo is back and he brought strangers with him!”  
Bilbo shot Thorin and Dís an apologetic smile. 

“He's a darling.” Dís said with much adoration in her voice. Thorin could tell that she missed her own sons.  
“He is. I love him dearly.”  
Bilbo's voice carried such deep felt fondness that Thorin couldn't help falling for Bilbo's son immediately. He was but a wee lad, barely as high as his knees, but he was a wild one. Already he came dashing back through the entrance hall, and shortly after him another boy about his age.  
They kept their distance, and Thorin watched amusedly as Frodo whispered something into his friend's ear. 

“Ah, Mr. Baggins, it's so good to see you. Blimey, look at you, all beaten up.”  
A man as short as Bilbo came around the corner from where the living room must have been. He had a big nose and curly, mouse brown hair.  
“Now, now. Hamfast, how often do I need to tell you to call me Bilbo?”  
“'s just, you know. It isn't proper, since I'm your employee 'n all.”  
“My dear Hamfast, you're far more than just that. But where are my manners, let me introduce you to Dís and Thorin Durin. They offered to drive me home from the hospital.”

Hamfast's eyes widened. He strode across the room and shook Thorin's hand violently.  
“It's a pleasure meeting you, sir. You might not recognize me but I commissioned my lovely wife's wedding ring from your shop. Beautiful work, she loves it still ten years later.”  
“I'm glad to hear you're satisfied with my work.” Thorin's cheeks reddened with the attention.  
Then all colour left his face. 

“The shop. Dís, I need to get to the shop. What time is it?”  
“It's only eight, Thorin, you still have an hour until you open. Relax.”  
He let out the breath he didn't notice he was holding.  
“Thank god.”  
“What a pity, I was hoping you would stay for a cup of tea.” Bilbo said. “But you could still come back after you close, if you'd like, that is. You needn't bother knocking.”

Thorin stood stock still.  
Bilbo Baggins was a miracle. He had almost killed him no twelve hours earlier and here he was, injured, in a goddamn wheelchair, inviting him for tea as if nothing had happened.  
But at the same time he felt like he owed it to him, he had to do anything to make Bilbo feel better. It was his duty, after all it was because of him that Bilbo was in the situation he was in. Thorin made up his mind, and decided that whatever Bilbo asked of him, he would gladly do it, if only to make him happy.  
“I'll see you at seven, then.” he said.  
“So late! That's supper. It's a deal! One more thing though. I hate to ask this of you, but could you possibly get my car back here? It's still where I left it yesterday.”

“He will!” Dís chimed in before Thorin had any chance of reacting. “I have to pick up the boys from the airport anyway, so I can drive you there, you get his car back here, I get you to work and then proceed to the airport to get your nephews and our beloved brother. He can get right to work after what perils he put you in yesterday. Does that sound all right?”  
Thorin considered this, but as he didn't stand a chance against his sister, he had no option but to agree to her plans. 

**********

Once they were back in Thorin's car Dís immediately started teasing Thorin.  
“You like him!”  
“Shut up.”  
“Oh but you do. You behaved so well, Thorin, our dear father would be pleased to know that not all his lessons were for naught.”

Thorin rewarded her frankness with no reaction. She had no right to speak to him like that, and she knew it.  
Uncomfortable silence followed until they got to the site of the accident. Thorin got out of the car as fast as he could and made for Bilbo's car.  
It was much more of an SUV, really, and stood in no comparison to Thorin's new Audi. It was a Landrover Defender from 1996, he recognized. Thorin smiled when he realized how contradictory this car and his owner looked. When he got in the car Dís had already disappeard back down the road they had come from.  
He sighed. Would she never learn? Without her help it would take him ages to find back to that tiny side road, if it could be called a road at all.

The engine started with a roar, and Thorin pulled out onto the street with little difficulty. The driving experience with this car was a lot different than what he was used to in his Audi. The interior smelled of flowers, which didn't come as surprise, come to think of it. The leather seats were worn out and the windscreen wiper stuttered to life under protest.  
He was curious what kind of music Bilbo listened to, so he turned on the radio. Much unlike the car, the music suited Bilbo perfectly. Soft piano keys floated through the speakers and filled the car with a peacefulness and serenity that Thorin had seldom experienced before. 

He drove through the Thursday morning haze without a second thought, and only noticed that something was amiss when he found himself on the junction to Chester High Road. One u-turn and fifteen minutes later he finally found the little road that led to Bag End, only to notice that it wasn't Bilbo's house but that of his neighbour. Exasperated, he turned around and took the next lane down the road. When he finally killed the engine and jumped out of the car Dís was already waiting for him. 

“May I ask what took you so long, you big oaf?”  
“I lost my way. Twice.”

He trampled the stairs up to the front door and rung the bell rather aggressively. The interphone rustled, then he heard Bilbo's voice through the speakers. 

“Who's there?”  
“Thorin. I have your car keys.”  
“Splendid.” And then, muffled: “Frodo! The door!”  
Seconds later the little boy opened the door and held out his hand in a demanding gesture. Thorin carefully placed the keys in his tiny fingers, then bowed before him.  
“I shall see you tonight, young Master Baggins.” He turned around and ran down the stairs. 

“What did you tell the poor lad?” Dís greeted him after he got into the car.  
“I impressed him. Works on all boys his age.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edited
> 
> I really love this story and I promise you I'm working on it! It's just that I have so many stories browsing in my head and I can't tame them so I just write whatever comes to me first. It might take a while until I update this, but the rough outline is there and it will be written!  
> Thank you so much for your patience :) ♥


End file.
